Dirty Urges (The Accidental Billionaire Book 3)

by T. Evans

  By the time her body stopped bucking against the restraints, he had gone soft enough that she’d pushed his cock out.

  “I am very sated for the day, Miss Rhodes,” Marshall said. “I need no further pleasure myself. Would you like to come again?”

  “Aren’t I finished when you say I am, Sir,” Anita said, trying to catch her breath.

  “I’m willing to offer you the chance to purchase more pleasure tonight.”

  “What is the cost, Sir?”

  Marshall retrieved the vibrator she’d used on herself earlier. “Does this mean you have some more orgasms hiding in there you’d like me to release tonight?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I would like to do something to you some time tomorrow. Something I normally would not do so soon, because it is somewhat extreme. It does require you to surrender even more strongly to my will than you have thus far.”

  “What is your desire, Sir?”

  “I want to leave marks on you that will persist for days. If you will give me that much of your body, you and me and your little friend here will make sure you are fully spent.”

  “How will you leave these marks, Sir?”

  “If I felt you needed to know that, I would have told you, Miss Rhodes.” He hit the power switch on the vibrator. “Do we have a deal, Miss Rhodes?”

  “May I speak freely, Sir?”

  “You may.”

  “After what you just did, that isn’t going to get the job done. It would be clinical, not true pleasure.”

  “So we have no deal, Miss Rhodes?”

  “May I offer a counter-proposal, Sir?”

  “No, you may not. When I make an offer, it is not up for negotiation, nor do you ever bargain with me.”

  “Of course, Sir,” Anita said.

  “But amuse me. Tell me what you were willing to offer.” Marshall started unclipping the metal rods that had held Anita’s legs bent and wide open.

  “You’d asked earlier what I’d most like for you to do to me.”

  “You up against the big windows, me pounding you hard enough you’d be afraid I was going to break the glass and send you tumbling down fifty stories.”

  “Yes, Sir. I was going to propose you could mark me however you wished, if you’d take me that way after you were done.”

  “And I’d told you earlier you were not going to get that from me this weekend, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Marshall finished releasing the straps from Anita and steadier her as she stepped down to the floor. “That cabinet over there has towels and cleaning solution. Instructions are on the bottle. Clean the horse, dry all of the cuffs and straps, inspect them for any cracking or looseness in the metal fittings. They go into that drawer over there. Report back to me in the living room when everything is back in order.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Marshall went back to his Throne in the living room. It was exceptionally bold of Anita to try to bargain with him. She had let him know that the toy was not going to hold a candle to him, and he did not detect any hollow ego pumping in it. It seemed a very genuine sentiment that taking a toy after taking a solid and proper go from him would not be truly fulfilling pleasure. He understood that himself. There were times when a climax was just something to scratch an itch or relax him, and there were times when it was something that took him well beyond. And those well-beyond moments were always with a quality partner.

  On the one hand, the courage it took for Anita to offer a counter-proposal was admirable, but ultimately, she needed to know her place. She needed correction. He sat in his Throne pondering, until she came up to him, down to hands and knees to kiss the tops of his feet, and then she knelt tall before him.

  Marshall leaned forward and reached around to the back of her neck. He saw clear panic in her eyes as she felt his fingers land on the buckle. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shut it. She closed her eyes, and lowered her head. As he removed the collar, he could feel her entire body deflate as she exhaled. Her shoulders, which had always been level, her chest which she always lifted for him both fell. Where she had previously been showing a beautiful strength in her servitude, she was suddenly looking weak.

  “Face me,” he said.

  Anita opened her eyes and lifted her head.

  “Kneel tall, like you mean it.”

  She did her best to straighten her spine and pull her shoulders back, get her chin up, but the look on her face as if she were about to fall into tears showed the bravado was all an act, an affected pose.

  Marshall set the collar down on the ground in front of her knees. “Look at me, not it,” he said, when he saw her start to glance down. He pulled his right hand back, and slapped her across the face, hard enough to nearly knock her off balance.

  “What does that collar mean?”

  “Complete obedience and compliance, Sir.”

  He slapped her with his left hand. It took her a few extra seconds to recover and face him. Tears were running freely from her eyes. “Trying to wheedle favors out of me is neither obedient nor compliant, is it?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Marshall raised his right hand again. She kept her eyes on his, and did not flinch when he struck her again.

  “Then why did you try, you stupid fucking whore?”

  “I forgot my place, Sir,” she said.

  Marshall picked up the collar. “This was not enough of a reminder?”

  “It was, Sir. The failure was mine, entirely.”

  “It certainly was. And right after I’d treated your body so well. Is that how you work, whore? Turn it on to get what you want from a guy, then shut it off once he’s given it?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Then what was it?” he asked. When Anita did not answer right away, he slapped her with his left hand again. “Answer me!” he shouted.

  “In the afterglow, I let my self-control slip, Sir.”

  Marshall stood up, shoving her out of his way as he walked away from the Throne. Anita quickly got back to her knees, and kept her eyes on the seat he’d just left. “Did I ever say anything about your service to me being conditional?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “There was no discussion about a ten-minute post-orgasmic grace period when you can just make random demands of me?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Are you serious about this, Miss Rhodes?”

  “I am, Sir.”

  Marshall walked up behind her. “You know, I was actually very excited about the offer I’d made you. I was really hoping you’d accept, and that at the end of the weekend, I could send you off with my marks on you. I don’t give them up lightly.”

  “Of course, Sir,” Anita said. Her shoulders had fallen again, and she was starting to lean forward. From the sound of her voice, she was clearly crying.

  Marshall walked over to the kitchen table and returned to the living room. “You will sleep in The Playground tonight, on the floor. No pillow, no blanket,” he told Anita. He grabbed her right arm, and pressed the key to The Retreat into her hand. “Unless you’d like to accept the standing offer to take two minutes to put your clothes on and leave.

  Anita stood up and walked to the kitchen table. She set the key into the middle of it, and started walking toward The Playground.

  “Miss Rhodes,” Marshall said.

  She stopped and turned to face him. “Yes, Sir?” There were a dozen questions in her eyes as she looked at him, tracks of water still running down her cheeks.

  Marshall pointed at the collar. “If you’re not going to work on re-earning this tomorrow, there’s no point in you staying.”

  “Of course, Sir,” she said.

  “Bring it with you. Sleep with it tonight to remind you of what it means.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Anita said, dropping to her hands and knees. She crawled over to him, kissed the tops of his feet, and picked up the collar. “I will endeavor to flawless service for the remainder of tonight and tomorrow, Sir.”
/>
  As she crawled backwards from him toward the hidden door to The Playground, Marshall said, “I’m done with you tonight.” He walked to the door to the Playground, and saw her curled up on the floor, holding the collar in her hands. He turned off the light and shut the door.

  Marshall poured himself a glass of wine before retiring to his bedroom. Taking the collar off her neck had clearly cut her deeply, but she had also made no hesitation about choosing to stay when he reminded her that she was free to leave at any time.

  The view from his bed was not as good as the view from the living room, but the bedroom still had floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls. He was very, very relieved that Anita was curled up in the room next to him, and hoped that she would still be there in the morning. There were more than half a million people living in the city he could see through his windows. But so far, not a single one of them had ever moved him the way Anita did. Even when she had needed correction, she took it from a place of confidence and strength, not from a place of disrespect or contempt. It was only when he took the collar off of her that he saw her become weak.

  Certainly, there were plenty of other women in the world like Anita, but none of them had crossed his path yet, none of them had ever offered themselves to him.

  As Marshall took his last sip of wine, he knew that he was going to miss Anita terribly if she failed him.

  Chapter Three

  It took Anita a very long time to fall asleep. Her cheeks stung where Sir had slapped her – twice per side. Just the thoughts she was turning over in her head about that could have easily kept her up all night. Her mother used to slap her across the face all the time, and one thing she’d sworn to herself was that if any man ever did that to her, she was going to lay him out flat. Even with her first experiments in kink with Robert, she’d warned him up front to never slap her face.

  And yet Sir had done it to her four times, and not even because she’d mouthed off to him, just because she tried to offer him something a little sweeter than a proposal he’d made. Anita knew that the sheer audacity of him striking her like that should have had her going straight for the key. After she’d knocked him flat. So why didn’t she? Why did she let him smack her across the face three more times? What was keeping her in the apartment? Why did she pointedly refuse the proffered key when he actually gave her the out?

  Anita rubbed her stinging cheek, and tightened her grasp on the collar.

  She realized she was staying because him having taken the collar off of her had hurt her a million times worse than anything he’d done to her that day. More than the floggers, more than the torture with the rope, more than him making really hard use of her ass, and even more than the slaps across the face. Taking the collar off her neck had left her feeling more vulnerable, naked, and helpless than being tied down, naked, and forcibly spread open to him. When Sir had taken his collar off of her, he took more than the symbol of his control over her. He took away the value he placed in her, and he also took his protection from her.

  Anita did not realize how much she’d been internalizing the messages of that little voice about how Sir kept her safe until the moment he unbuckled the collar. By taking it away, he told her in no uncertain terms that he was disappointed in her, that he no longer accepted her service. In a way, she felt it was him telling her he was no longer proud of her. She was no longer his, and thus he was relieving himself of any further obligation to her.

  Until she found a way to earn that collar back.

  She held it to her lips and kissed it, the way she had taken to kissing the tops of his feet whenever she was ordered to present herself to him. The metal hardware had a light, but sharp scent to it. The leather itself had a more powerful scent, made even stronger by her sweat on it. She took an inventory of the dark room, it’s chests of drawers, fewer than half of which she knew the contents of. The chair that Sir liked to sit her in, where she’d failed her first test at holding back orgasm until he permitted her to let go. There was the wooden X – a Saint Andrew’s Cross he called it – where he’d flogged her for that, the futon pad where he’d shown her the unexpected pleasures of taking him in a different way, and where he’d held her while she came back from whatever place he’d put her in with his attentions. Somewhere up above her was the swivel bolted to the ceiling where he’d hung her while he used her mouth. And then there was the horse where he’d given her by far the most intense, mind-altering, satisfying orgasms of her life. Right before she’d screwed up everything and threw away whatever esteem she’d earned up to that point.

  Eventually, her bladder made itself known, and she got up, leaving The Playground as silently as she could. The living room was dark and empty, so she used the restroom as quietly as she could and padded back to her sleeping spot on the floor. It was only by holding the collar up to her nose and breathing it in, by knowing he had not thrown her out, but had given her the collar to sleep with, that she was finally able to drift away in the darkness.

  ###

  Only to be waken suddenly to find herself face down on the carpet, a warm, heavy weight on her. Her hands were twisted behind her back, and her legs were spread. It was only after she realized something was forcing her legs wide that she realized she was being penetrated. Instantaneously, her body clenched tight.

  She heard the word, “Relax…” hissed harshly into her ear.

  Anita opened her eyes, and saw that her right fist was wrapped up around a collar. Instantly, the situation clicked for her. She had fallen asleep in Sir’s playroom. She had given him permission to make any use of her at any time, even if she were unconscious.

  Sir had told her he liked to sometimes make use of a completely passive partner. She concentrated hard on first relaxing her grip on the collar, then focusing on her body, from head to stomach, down to her hips and legs, muscle by muscle willing herself to go limp. Finally, she set her mind to the harder task of putting all of her attention on relaxing between her legs. At first, when she realized somebody was trying to get inside of her, she’d locked tight. When she finally knew it to be Sir, and that she desperately wanted him there, she had to convince herself to stop tensing around him in pleasure and desire. Sir wanted inert, she needed to do her best to give it to him.

  Somewhere through the fog of her waking, she told herself to mind his grip on her wrists. She was forbidden from climaxing whenever anything was around her wrists. It seemed understood that she was allowed to enjoy him while he held her wrists, she just had to moderate it and keep the ultimate pleasure at bay.

  But if Sir had come upon her while she was sleeping, she imagined he wanted a completely passive body. Anita pulled all of her awareness into her memory of the day before, of what she could remember of the moments before going down into that beautiful and velvety blackness Sir called deep subspace. The only thing she could think of that might get her there willfully was to think of nothing but surrendering to him. She snapped at herself whenever her mind drifted to her body, and forced herself to think of only two words.

  Sir.

  Wants.

  She started to repeat those two words over and over again, like a mantra. Sir. Wants. Sir. Wants. Sir. Wants. She did not need to know what exactly he wanted, just that he wanted, and that she had only one purpose to her being, to give it to him. Sir. Wants.

  Sir.

  Wants.

  ###

  “Miss Rhodes.”

  “Sir?” Anita had not completely left her body, but she did feel like she was coming out of a trance-like state.

  “Go freshen up and make us breakfast. The procedure will be the same as dinner and dessert last night.”

  “Of course, Sir.” It was only then that Sir slipped himself out of her and got up. She felt raw between her legs from being entered without preparation, but also very content at having been able to become completely passive for him.

  Anita relieved herself and cleaned herself up quickly. She noticed that there was a robe in a pale lavender color hanging on
the bathroom door, with a pair of silk lounge pants. Both garments were luxuriously soft, and fit her perfectly.

  When she got to the kitchen, she saw the refrigerator was freshly stocked with labeled containers for “Saturday Breakfast” and “Saturday Lunch”. She found the oven already pre-heated at the temperature listed on the breakfast container, which held a quiche. There was also a plate of fruit in the refrigerator to go with it. There was a canister of ground coffee set next to the coffee maker, with filters and cups in the cabinet right above it.

  “I’ll take my coffee as soon as it is ready, Miss Rhodes,” Sir said, stepping out of the bathroom, attired similarly to herself in silk pants and a robe, but he’d taken the set in dark blue.

  “How shall I prepare it, Sir?”

  “One sugar cube, and a very small splash of cream.”

  There were still ten minutes on the oven when Sir’s coffee was ready. Anita poured a mug for him and took it to him in the living room. She gracefully lowered herself to her knees and offered it to him. He accepted it, took a sip, and opened his legs, leaning a little bit back in the chair. Anita had no doubt in her mind what his shift in posture signaled, so she shrugged the robe off of her shoulders, baring her breasts, and she leaned forward into his lap. Sir carefully sipped his coffee while she unbuttoned the fly on his pants and took him into her mouth. It had been barely fifteen minutes since he’d finished taking her, so she was not expecting to get him all the way before breakfast was ready. She was very happy to see that he was already partially stiff by the time she reached into his pants, and she was able to quickly bring him almost fully erect.

  The simple task of servicing him for a few unoccupied minutes during breakfast preparation was very comforting to Anita. She had always used her oral skills as a very directly sexual act, either with the intent of getting her partner off, or as foreplay. She’d never before sucked on a man just to give him a little bit of gentle pleasure and adoration without his orgasm being the ultimate goal.